


Inappropriate Intimacy

by DunkMeToHell



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling that turns into sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, fic: ends up being longest fic i've ever written, haha okay, in the vein of, me: writes fic for distraction, what the fuck am i doing????? i do not know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunkMeToHell/pseuds/DunkMeToHell
Summary: Drew thinks Akira Tozawa is everything wrong with the cruiserweight division. Akira thinks Drew Gulak has nice arms.





	Inappropriate Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic as a distraction from recent drama (more on that at the end notes). Amazingly, it ended up being longer than anything that I've written prior. Scientifically, that should be impossible, but here it is anyway. Enjoy.

Come to think of it, Akira Tozawa was everything that Gulak detested about this division.

Chants were one thing, and so was high-flying—both at once was something entirely different. Two things, in fact (if there’s anything Drew Gulak is, it’s good at math). But regardless of the precise number of “things” that Tozawa was, it would be too many rules broken at once. And that look on his face, the one that he always wore when he was doing whatever-on-earth-double-triple-flip-senton it was he was doing at the moment—that smile that would be wide, imbecilic, gummed up by his mouthguard—was downright chafing, and made Gulak’s spine tingle every time he turned to face him.

The chanting was even worse, however. In fact, Tozawa’s chanting may have been worse than anyone else’s in the entire division. Whenever chants would bubble up on the show, often, they would at least originate within the crowd proper, and were made of actual _words_. But leave it to that human wrecking ball (albeit, a very small one) to not only create a chant out of complete nonsense, a mere _sound_ , but also to infect a whole arena of captive spectators with its mindless spray. Every match he stumbled into with those dinky little shorts: “AH! AH! AH!” He would only have to do it once, and almost immediately the entire crowd would be in on it, as if a swarm of bees had suddenly materialized in the arena—

Drew’s eyes brightened with an idea, and he swiftly unclipped his fountain pen from his shirt pocket and drew it down to a sheet of paper, darkly coated with innumerable bullet points. “P. 4,398—NO BEES”, he scribbled excitedly before hooking the pen back into his shirt.

Where was he? Bees—chants—Tozawa!

And yet, the thing that Drew thought even worse than the chants was Akira’s own complete lack of self-preservation. Backstage, Drew made a point to lean against the wall to watch any of his matches on the screen, and each one was a heart attack. Certainly, the man could flip, but did that really mean that he should? Drew knew firsthand that Akira, despite his small size, was uniquely durable. After all, he wouldn’t have survived all those stiff shots Drew had given him in that street fight if he wasn’t—oh, Drew clenched his fist in remembrance. He’d almost had it that night, but he just wasn’t quite able to get to it. _Someday._

But, regardless of how durable Tozawa could be, it didn’t mean that he was made out of iron—perhaps rubber, though, judging by the way he acted backstage. Even when he wasn’t in the ring, Drew would see him standing idly in the halls, bouncing from one foot onto the other, bobbing up and down, flicking out his own wrists like he was trying to shoot out some electricity that was building up inside of him—although, if he were to compare Akira to rubber, then there wouldn’t be any such electricity building up for Akira to have to let out, seeing as rubber was not a conductor, but an insulator, rather…

A frown deepened in Drew’s face. This metaphor was falling apart fast.

But, he remembered, as electrons can tear away from even rubber with sufficient voltage, so too could Akira Tozawa sustain damage. That was the worst thing about this whole roster, the arrogance of high-flyers; the way that they would stare outstanding risk in the face and smile ignorantly into its eyes, each time assuming they would come out on top, oftentimes even going so far as to make _jokes_ about it. One maneuver was even called the _suicide dive_ , for God’s sake!

Such were the difficulties of being the self-appointed leader of the 205 locker room, but nobody ever said finding Drewtopia would be easy, especially when afflicted with a whole roster that was hell-bent on not seeing the light.

But (here Drew paused to smile, and adjust the knot of his necktie) Drew Gulak wasn’t here for easy; he was here for a better 205 Live. And even if that meant guiding people that didn’t want to be saved by the hand—the likes of Tozawa, especially—back on the right path, then so be it—

“Jeeeeeheeesus, Drew,” Ariya suddenly cut in, shattering Drew’s train of thought, “don’t you have an off-switch somewhere?”

Drew felt his cheeks tinge with red as he heard a low rumble of chuckling come out from all around the catering room. He wasn’t aware that he’d been speaking out loud, again.

“I’m sorry, Ariya,” Drew mumbled, quietly tucking the scattered array of papers that had spread all over the table back into order. “Just have plenty on my mind lately.” Ariya raised one eyebrow behind his gold-rimmed shades, before letting out a strange noise from behind his lips.

“Yeah,” he said, untwisting the cap of his water bottle, “wonder who that is.” Drew’s head snapped up at this remark.

“‘Who’?” Drew asked, voice pitched a bit higher at this new accusation. “What do you mean ‘who’?” Ariya smirked wryly as he took a long sip of water and swallowed.

“Oh, you’ve been talking for the last few minutes, man,” Ariya’s voice was almost gleeful as he informed Drew, whose eyes widened slightly at that answer. That only meant—Drew turned around hard and fast over the back of the chair as he heard a faint but familiar giggle behind him.

Akira stood before the catering table with his arms folded across his chest, looking down ( _down?_ He was a good five inches shorter than Drew, at least, but it was that smug sort of air that made him seem taller) at Drew with a smile that was almost catlike. Flanking him on either side were Mustafa and Cedric, standing tall with nearly identical expressions. Drew flushed pale as it dawned on him that there was no way they hadn’t heard the brunt of his little monologue.

“Ya hear that, Akira?” Mustafa asked brightly, leaning into Akira’s side. “Sounds like Congressman Gulak doesn't care for your style!”

“Are you just gonna let him talk about you like that?” Cedric asked, leaning into Akira’s side in a way that mimicked Mustafa perfectly. Drew grimaced watching them—it was as if they’d rehearsed the whole ordeal. If they had, then Akira, whose face in the middle was cracking apart with a giggle, was a terrible actor.

Cedric slapped Akira on his back, between the shoulders. “Akira, I don’t think you oughta take that lying down, man!” Akira was simply shaking with laughter now as Mustafa reached over to muss his hair.

“Yeah, man!” Mustafa exclaimed. “You shouldn’t take that lying down on the ground! You should take that…”

Here, both Mustafa and Cedric stepped away, scanning the table, cluttered with all variety of hors d’oeuvres, up and down. It is at this moment that Drew’s teeth clenched, realizing that beyond any doubt, the three of them were all working together on this stunt specifically to upset him.

“Take that… _in midair!_ ”

Suddenly, Cedric and Mustafa grabbed either side of the thin tablecloth, and, as if it were a magic trick, jerked it away, sending food clattering onto the floor (this alone caused Drew’s throat to tighten: all that money spent on catering wasted by these ungrateful children) and exposing the surface of the table.

Akira’s face lit up like a bulb, gesturing toward the table as if to confirm. Cedric and Mustafa were already chanting along for him: “ _Do a flip! Do a flip! Do a flip! Do a flip!_ ” And soon it was a low roar, quickly spreading to the entire hodge-podge of wrestlers and staff in the catering room: “ _do a flip! Do a flip! Do a flip! Do a flip!_ ” The words dug into Drew’s ears like needles, and he could feel his jaw clenching up tightly as he watched the spectacle unfold. The effects of the cheering on Tozawa were compounding, riling him up, sending him bouncing up and down in place while that damned _grin_ of his grew brighter and brighter, excitement alighting in his ever-smiling eyes until he reached a breaking point.

Drew was getting up to leave, back turned just as Akira scrambled up onto the surface of the table, prepping himself for the leap. The chant seemed, to Drew, almost deafening now as he was heading out. He was almost at the door when Akira let out that same grating “ _AH! AH! AH!_ ” that he always does, made even worse by the addition of all of catering now being in on it. Then, he jumped.

Then, something strange happened.

Drew only registered the aftereffect at first. He was on his knees on the floor—shins hurting as if he’d fallen down with a fast, hard force. His shoulders and arm muscles ached, and the whole cheering and chanting that had just a moment ago swept the room had suddenly ceased. Mustafa and Cedric were peering down on him, confusion—and amusement—imminent in their faces. But none looked so confused at that moment as Akira, who, Drew was startled to find, was sprawled out in his arms, looking dazed, but none the worse for wear.

Had Drew…had he…?

Ariya, still seated at the table, burst out in a sputtering laugh. “Holy shit!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “You actually _caught_ him!”

He caught him? _He caught him!_ Drew felt his body surge with something like both pride and fear. What in God’s name had possessed him to do that? Sure, he knew that Akira had been doing something dangerous at that moment—but Drew had never really felt so... _suddenly_ protective in his whole life. It was as if, right at the very moment where Tozawa took off, some sudden instinct had alighted in his brain that he’d never before touched on, and he leapt—quite literally—into action.

The strangest part of all, though, was the fact that Akira didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact—Drew felt himself nearly short-circuit as he saw it—he was smiling up into Drew’s face as he laid back in his arms. _What in the hell was this?_

“I-I, er, I-I...” Drew stuttered hard, realizing all at once the look this situation had to it. “I-I...see that I’ve caught you, Tozawa!”

His awkward phrase only made Tozawa chuckle, and the smile on his face widened. Drew almost literally felt his heartbeat skip. For a moment, he could have believed Akira didn’t dislike him...

It’s Cedric who first coughed, obviously fake into his fist. “Hmmm, ah...Moose, shouldn’t we be outta here?” He asked Mustafa, with similarly poor acting. Drew wondered what he was trying to insinuate. Mustafa, on his part, nodded rapidly.

“Yeah, yeah! Think we got a match coming, actually!” With that, the two of them quickly pushed each other out of the door and out into the hall, and Drew felt certain that he heard some faint sniggering from them on their way out. Ariya stood next, wiping his hands on his pants as he straightened up. “Welp,” he said, smoothly, “guess that’s my cue to get out too. You two, um...have fun.” Ariya gave both Drew and Akira a mysterious smirk as he left.

Soon, the room was emptying out, some awkward chatter exchanged in low voices that Drew couldn’t help but wonder if it was regarding him and the little guest in his arms.

Speaking of...

Drew looked down on Ariya in his arms. He was still half-seated in them, peering up into Drew’s pink, blushing face with a smile that was both coy and innocent at once. Drew’s throat felt suddenly arid. God, now that he was getting a good look at Tozawa, he realized just how small he really was, especially in comparison to himself. He almost looked like a little kid—

“You’re comfy.” It came out of Akira’s mouth so simply, as if it were more of a statement of fact than a compliment. Drew’s cheeks darkened from pink to red, and he sputtered on his words.

“I-I...y-y...h-h...” Drew inhaled sharply through his nostrils, fighting with his mind to regain his composure. “That’s a bit of an odd thing to say, Tozawa,” he said, voice only barely steady. Akira’s smile dimmed at that only slightly. With his index finger, he suddenly traced soft, twisting line over the muscle of Drew’s forearm. Drew consciously fought down a gasp, and his muscles tensed on reflex—a bad move as this only fascinated Akira even more, tracing more complex paths into the tense ridges. Drew could tell from the gentle, curious concentration on Akira’s face that he truly didn’t understand that his gesture appeared to be very intimate, or—more importantly—that he was (as Drew also discovered _just_ now) touching Drew somewhere where he was _quite_ sensitive.

“Why not say it?” Akira’s eyes darted up to Drew’s, fingertip paused on the inside of his elbow. “It’s true. You’re comfy.”

Drew bit down on his lip for a moment, cursing himself silently for taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “I-it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not...” he somehow managed to hoarsely say. Akira, however, wasn’t listening. His head was falling slightly back, nudged up against Drew’s bicep. He blinked slowly, with heavy lids, looking almost tired.

Drew looked upon him in wonder. Of course, in his own mind, he’d always imagined that the person who would successfully render the ever-energized Tozawa docile would be himself, but he had never foreseen it being like _this_.

“You’re strong...” Akira said faintly, and immediately Drew realized that he had been standing with Akira up in his arms this whole time. At a bit of a loss, he sat quickly down in the chair next to him. Of course, Akira didn’t budge an inch; instead, he shifted only slightly, so that now his head was nestled with his ear against Drew’s chest. For a moment, Drew thought he was going to scream as Akira smiled at the sound of his heartbeat. “Soft, too!” He exclaimed, looking like he had no care in the world. Drew took in soft sips of breath, only barely keeping his head together. What was he doing? Why was he allowing something so inappropriate, especially with someone like Tozawa? He watched as Akira slowly settled into the shape of his body, legs hanging hooked on his arm, hands folded over his own stomach, eyes drifting slowly closed as he rested his head in the soft crook of Drew’s neck. Drew felt himself about to swoon—soft, steady puffs of breath were escaping Akira’s lips, trickling gently across the bare skin of his neck. No—no no _no_ —he couldn’t submit like this.

Drew quickly stood up and set Akira down into the chair where he’d been seated, an action that was met with something almost like a whine of protest from Akira’s lips.

“M-my apologies, Tozawa,” Gulak stammered, fumblingly trying to pull his suit jacket over his arms. “I-I don’t have time for this foolishness—I have—I have—“ Think of a lie, dammit! Every second Akira gazed up at him with large, wondering eyes was nearly drawing his brain out and capturing it again. “I-I have _important business_ to tend to! Must be off! We can finish up later!” And, with hardly as much as a “goodbye”, Drew was gone, speed-walking out the door whilst busily buttoning up his jacket, leaving Tozawa confused and wondering in the middle of catering.

 _What in heavens was that about?_ Drew ran a palm across his brow, finding it slick with a distressed sweat. He had never, ever acted like this in his entire life. And “we can finish up later”? _Later?_ What possessed him to throw that in at the end? Certainly, Drew had very little intent of actually pursuing this nonsense again...

Alright, then, he thought to himself as if it were an argument. Then why _did_ he say it?

For that, Gulak had no real answer, except that he surely hadn’t meant it and that it he would just put it out of his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turned out, Drew had a few hours of peace—the rest of 205 Live’s duration, and a few hours settled into his hotel—before it ended up back into his mind.

Because, unbeknownst to Drew, Akira actually had every intention of “finishing up later”, and apparently, enough time had sufficiently passed for “later” to arrive.

Drew was lying flat on his back on a somewhat lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, one that wouldn’t lie down flat under his spine no matter how he wriggled or shifted. Besides, the sheets were suffocatingly taut, stretched over the bed and his body like a skin, and rolling around was a rather pointless endeavor anyway. Damn, now how was he to get to sleep? It was already 3 AM, yet his eyes remained stubbornly open, unblinking as he glared up at the light on the ceiling. He turned his head to face the digital clock, sighing through his teeth as he watched the number just barely creak from 3:04 to 3:05. And _gosh,_ this room was cold—Drew attempted, in vain, to work his arms down to clutch the thin blanket and pull it up over his exposed chest, but alas, he was still trapped by the sheet. With a huff he surrendered, flopping into the mattress, instead rubbing little circles into the surface of his chest, hoping this would at least ward off the goosebumps that were so insistently rising from his skin.

3:06. What had gotten into him _now?_ Drew was never so restless—

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door—well, not much of a knock at all. More of a _slam;_ a flat-handed smack on the hardwood surface. It stirred Drew from his tired thoughts, and he lurched, straining tight against the sheet around his body.

“J-just a minute,” Drew said hoarsely into the darkness, hoping whomever was insistently beating the door was able to hear his voice. Judging by the way the noise immediately intensified, it was anybody’s guess. With a final good flex, Drew finally tore the sheet away from the bed and himself, and sat up straight in the bed. He grimaced as he heard the way the door was being battered, likely with two fists. Surely, someone would complain about such noise.

Drew reached over to the drawer, searching through neatly-folded rows of slacks and undershirts for something that would be suitable to cover himself with. The blows raining upon the door somehow intensified, and Drew winced over the volume of it all.

“I said,” Drew raised his voice only slightly, “please just give me a—“

“Hurry up! Let me in!”

The voice on the other side of the door was startlingly familiar, so much so that Drew suddenly dropped the shirt he was holding. Was he—that _was—_

Now heedless of his state of dress, Drew stumbled to the door and flung it open. Akira Tozawa stood before him, fist raised in preparation for another bout of knocking. His jacket was about a half-size too big for him, and his shorts still hung to about his knees. Combined with the difference in height between the two, Akira looked, to Drew, almost comically small. But the expression on his face was unusually serious.

“T...Tozawa?” Drew sputtered. “What are you _doing_ here at such an hour?” Akira barely brushed Drew’s shoulder as he let himself into the room.

“You said we can finish later. It’s later.”

Drew’s eyes widened, blinking with surprise as Akira sat down cross-legged on his mattress (and squirming, slightly—so he didn’t think it was very comfortable either).

“B-b-b...wh-when I said...I-I didn’t...” Every single stumbling sentence Drew attempted to start fell apart the moment he looked into Akira’s face, stone-like, as dire as if this were a shareholders meeting. For a moment, Drew was tempted to go to the closet and retrieve his suit for the occasion.

“You said we’d finish later, and it’s later, now,” Akira repeated the simple fact with all the bluntness of a criminal attorney, and Drew’s spine stiffened, nearly uttering an apology, like a reprimanded intern.

“Y-you’re correct,” Drew said, slowly, in a daze, “I did indeed say that...but—“ He stopped suddenly as he noticed that Akira wasn’t quite looking him in the eyes; instead, he scanned him just around his middle, skimming his—oh, oh. Drew clasped an arm securely about his bare chest, attempting to hide that part of himself, only to then realize that he was standing before Akira in his full regular sleep attire (i.e., boxers and nothing else). His cheeks turned fiercely pink with embarrassment, burning only hotter when he thought he recognized the faintest trace of a smile in Akira’s face.

“I-I-I...” Drew bit his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing all his energy on just _getting a hold of himself._ After a pause, he exhaled hard, and started again, “I apologize for my current state of dress. I wasn’t aware—“ No, no. A classic politician’s mistake. Don’t insist you didn’t know something when you clearly brought it up yourself (though he hadn’t intended Tozawa to take his “finish later” proposal literally). “I wasn’t anticipating your arrival so _soon._ ” He laughed faintly at his own words, trying to seem a bit less awkward and failing miserably. “I suppose I should’ve been more...um...specific. Please, if you would just allow me to—“

“You’re fine!” Akira said, so forwardly that Drew nearly stumbled backward into the wall. He blinked down at Akira, who was now grinning, scooting to the edge of the bed, with pure amazement. There was no way he couldn’t understand the implications of what he’d just said...right?

Akira sat on the end of the bed, arms outstretched up towards Drew’s body. Instantly, ten thousand protests boiled up into Drew’s lips—absurd, inappropriate, untimely, childish—but they all died into silence the moment he saw Akira’s eyes. Gentle, unassuming, almost _innocent—_ not quite, but almost. Enough that Drew suddenly blanked on whatever in hell it was that he was going to say.

“Come here,” Akira said encouragingly, flexing his fingers as if he meant to draw Drew in that way. Almost mindlessly, Drew slowly lowered himself down to Akira’s level. In an instant, Akira’s arms were flung around Drew’s back, holding him tightly and close, cheek wedged against his neck—Drew’s breath hitched slightly, feeling the stubble rubbing against a particularly tender area of skin. Slowly, tensely, Drew’s arms found their way around Akira’s torso in a firm _hug_ , tugging him in until he was what should have been uncomfortably close.

 _Should_ have been, but wasn’t. Actually, Drew was vaguely startled to find, this new position he was in was not bad, not bad at all; in fact, he found himself...almost enjoying it. The way Akira’s chest felt against his own, the way his breath felt against his ear, just the closeness of it all…closeness that he hadn’t felt from anybody in such a long time.

 _What is the_ _matter with you?_ Drew could hear his inner voice of reason only barely. _This man is everything that you’re fighting to rid this division of, and here you are cuddling—cuddling in THIS state of dress! What are you thinking, man?_

But, as much as the voice berated Drew, he could hardly acknowledge it. Akira wasn’t speaking, wasn’t making a sound as he absorbed Drew’s body heat, but somehow, Drew was drowning in Tozawa right now. It clouded his vision, his mind, his judgement. He was being comfortable for somebody else, and for some reason, Drew really didn’t want that to end.

“Gulak...”

Drew stirred and pulled back, looking at Akira curiously. He didn’t even think that he knew what his name was. The look in Akira’s dark brown eyes was strangely mischievous, and Drew felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright.

“A-actually,” he somehow felt compelled to say, “my name is Drew.” A smile bled across Akira’s face—for all the mischief in his eyes, this seemed truly warm and genuine.

“Drew,” Akira repeated the name softly. “You’re very warm.” Drew felt his heart flip uncharacteristically.

“Thank you...you’re warm as well...” Drew’s voice was nearly a whisper, but he meant it. Warmth spilled off of Akira’s chest and arms like a small furnace, making Drew’s skin tingle. Perhaps it was because Akira was wearing more clothes?

Drew did not have time to dwell on the thought for long, as Akira suddenly decided he didn’t like the position he was in. With a swift twist of his arms, Drew was suddenly sent flopping back onto the mattress, head landing with a forceful “poof”. Before he could even quite register what had happened, Akira was already there, worming up between Drew’s thighs before finally settling, cheek resting against his bare chest. His smile was calm, serene, like a sunbathing kitten—but Drew, eyes popping out wide from their sockets, heart now pounding, was far from calm.

“What are you doing?” Drew asked, urgently, in one burst of breath.

“Feeling you!” Akira exclaimed—a simple answer that caused Drew to nearly gasp.

“W-why are you on...” Drew gulped hard, trying to ignore the innuendo that was about to come out of his own mouth. “Why are you on _top?_ ”

Akira craned up his neck to look into Drew’s face. “I felt like it!” He said, grinning sweetly. “Besides, it makes more sense.”

Drew’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean, ‘makes more sense’?”

Now the look on Akira’s face grew smug. “Because I always pin you. I always win!” And he chuckled softly as he turned his face back down into Drew’s chest, nearly burying himself in it.

Drew felt his ears burning with embarrassment, and he parted his lips to say something in protest—but now, Akira was reaching out and delicately feeling along Drew’s shoulder with his fingertips, lightly grazing his skin, and all that came out of Drew now was a faint gasp.

“W-what are you do _iiiiiiiing?_ ” Drew asked, voice sharply leaping as Akira found the tender muscle of his shoulder and started kneading insistently into it.

“Feeling...hmmm...” Akira murmured, voice low, brows drawn in concentration. Drew took a breath and tried to relax himself but— _damn!—_ he tried his very hardest not to hiss as Akira’s fingers rolled over a little hard knot in his shoulder blade, gently but insistently massaging it out. Why did this feel good? Why did this feel _so good?_

Now Akira’s hands roamed further, fingertips grazing along down the surface of Drew’s biceps, which, in a daze of nervousness, were already tensed and firmed. Drew’s mouth made a move as if to argue, but all that came out was a soft sigh as Akira grazed his arms all over, shoulder to elbow to tricep to wrists to fingers to all the way up again. Every touch was slight, experimental, like Drew was a sort of specimen being examined—except it felt more strangely _intimate_ than such a term would imply. Drew felt his arms trembling around Akira’s back, feeling like he had to keep himself steady even though he was the one lying back on the mattress.

“Soft, warm, strong...” Akira kept mumbling as his little warm hands kept running all over Drew’s arms, cheek pressed up against his beating heart, making every inch of Drew tingle in an alarming way. Slowly, Akira lifted his face up to to meet Drew’s. That smile that he so often hated was right there, but somehow, it didn’t seem the least bit obnoxious…

“I like it,” Akira said, surprising Drew with the softness of his voice. He shifted his knees, scooping Drew into his embrace and pulling him (with ease—even Drew was surprised to find just how strong he really was) further up onto the mattress, so that his head could rest on the pillows while Akira rested on his chest, again looking like a kitten—

Drew looked down on Akira with a bit of fascination. The longer he looked, the stranger he felt: “kitten” was a rather good word to describe the way Akira Tozawa looked, curled up on his chest, looking so small and—not at all _frail_ , but—unassuming? Maybe. But he was smiling down there, eyes drawn shut, looking so damn _calm_ for once, the first time that Drew had ever seen him in such a state in his entire time working here. And…come to think of it…Drew now became distracted by his hair. It looked _soft_ , almost silky, and suddenly he was overcome by the unwieldy desire to stroke it.

With one shaking hand, he gently ran his fingers across the top of Akira’s head. The effect was immediate, Akira suddenly lifting up his head from Drew’s chest to meet his hand as it slowly threaded in his hair. Drew’s heart pounded hard, both at the feel of Akira’s hair (it was soft; even softer than he’d imagined) and at the expression on his face. It was bliss itself, and Drew faintly wondered if Akira was simply unused to being touched like this. Perhaps there was something to that, considering how aggressive he was when he got in the ring—God, what a contrast that was; when Akira fought Drew in a match, he would be so reckless, downright brutal at times, but now that they were alone, like _this_ , he was suddenly so gentle…

Here, Drew suddenly grew rigid, realizing a problem.

“A-Akira…” he fumbled, slowly pushing Akira up by the shoulder as he went to a half-seated position, “th-there’s something wrong here…”

Akira’s expression was partly fascinated at hearing his name come from Drew’s lips, rather than the standard “Tozawa”. “What’s wrong?” He asked, looking into Drew’s eyes with a gaze that was unintentionally deep and piercing. Drew felt sweat on the back of his neck.

“S-see…” Drew’s tongue darted out quickly to lick his dry lips, and he fought not to see Akira’s eyes briefly flicker to his mouth as he did so. “See, y-you’re fully clothed, but I’m not quite d-dressed…that’s not really…fair, is it?”

Akira shook his head promptly. “No, it isn’t.”

“R-right! S-so…if you would just allow me to go to my—”

Akira had a different idea to level the playing field. Mid-sentence, he started plucking his jacket from his arms, throwing it onto the ground. Drew watched wide-eyed as his hands went to the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it up and then off of his head. With a suppressed squeak, Drew clapped a hand over his mouth and fell back into the pillows just as Akira started on his shorts. He didn’t quite understand himself—he’d seen him shirtless so many, many times already, so why did it feel so _strange?_

Akira gripped Drew’s wrists almost forcefully, pulling his arms back around his body into what Drew could only describe as “an aggressive hug”, with enough force to make his body flop in the mattress, nearly crunching his back in the embrace. The strange part was that Drew didn’t even really mind that; not when Akira was staring up at him with those warm eyes, chin digging into his chest and just _smiling_. He was faintly aware of the edges of his mouth curling up, returning the smile.

In part, Drew was almost glad that he was smiling, because it distracted Akira from the fact that he had a little problem—well, not really a _little_ problem, per se. Drew wasn’t one to put on airs, but it _definitely_ wasn’t small, anyone could admit that.

But it wasn’t his fault, at any rate; it was Akira’s, who, bless his heart, didn’t realize that when he crawled over his body like this, his hips slowly ground down against Drew’s. And then again when he nestled into his chest, and when he nestled in again, and again, and—

Alright, as it turned out, Akira was more or less grinding himself continuously into Drew’s groin, and it was getting his blood rushing. He was trying his damned hardest not to focus on it, but with every little motion Akira would brush against it again, riling it up harder and harder until finally it started to sting. Drew strained and bit his lips, trying to keep himself silent, but he still twitched and shivered with every little _touch_. Akira could feel Drew’s arms trembling against his bare back, and stopped, propping himself up onto his elbows and looking up at Drew questioningly.

“What’s the matter?” He asked. “You’re shaking.”

“N-n-n-no I’m n-not…” Drew lied, literally, through his teeth.

Akira frowned, but shrugged his shoulders and settled back in and— _that_ was it, pressing himself low, hard against Drew’s growing erection. He hadn’t meant to do it, but somehow he found that frustratingly sensitive area that Drew liked to pretend he didn’t have, and then Drew embarrassed himself. Involuntarily, suddenly, _loudly_. Drew _moaned_.

The air in the room froze. Akira sat upright on his knees, eyes wide open, staring down at Drew. He, too, was wide-eyed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands clasped over his mouth. He wanted nothing more in the world than to take that back, to suck the noise back in and swallow it, but it had already been unleashed like a wild animal, and now came the consequences.

Akira’s eyes flickered up and down Drew’s body, sprawled out before him on the bed—and _then_ his eyes froze, staring at the large, obvious bulge (how did he miss it?) nestled between Drew’s thighs. Drew felt his heart pulsing in his chest. God, and he thought he’d felt exposed _before_.

“A-A-Akira, please…d-d…d-don’t concern yourself with that…” He babbled, trying in vain to come up with some semblance of an explanation. “Th-this has nothing to do with our current situation! It’s j-just…just…y-your body heat and my own, closely combined…” Oh, that didn’t sound sensual at all, no sir. On Akira’s part, he was paying as much attention to Drew’s speech as he usually did (i.e. none at all), just lingering on his erection with a strange sort of wonder, as if he’d never even seen one before.

“P-please, please…” Drew squeaked again, slowly starting to seat himself upright, “d-don’t worry, it’s nothing, I—”

Drew stopped short as he noticed something. Was that—? Slowly, his eyes dropped down Akira’s body. A pronounced bulge was swelling between his legs.

Drew felt like he’d faint.

There was silence, just the two of them staring at each other, first to their hard-ons, then into their eyes, and then switching back and forth again. Words were useless now. Akira’s eyes fell one more time to Drew’s crotch, lingering there for so long, Drew felt sure that there would soon be holes burnt in. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was no good: his tongue was swollen, and his throat was arid. He finally squeezed his eyes shut, spiraling, and flopped back in the bed. He tried to will himself into suddenly vanishing into thin air.

Meanwhile, Akira was...strangely taken by the sight before him. He lowered onto his elbows on either side of Drew’s thighs, bringing his face down closer to his hard-on, straining hard, stretching tightly out the confines of the black fabric of those boxer briefs. Even this far away...Akira breathed in softly. He could feel the heat rising off from it. And he couldn’t explain why he _liked_ that so much...

For most people, when they don’t understand why they liked something, they may try to explore the reason, to introspect—but Akira Tozawa was quick, active, and didn’t want to introspect, explore reason. He wanted to explore the _thing_ , whatever it was that he liked so much. Right now, he liked the look of that straining fabric Drew wore—but he wanted to know how he’d like what was underneath, as well.

Drew was forced suddenly upright by a rush of unconfined air stinging his erection. Wild-eyed, he gazed down at Akira, who was scooting slowly down the bed, determinedly tugging Drew’s boxer briefs down his legs, letting his dick stand freely.

“What are you _doing?!_ ” Drew yelped, a knee snapping up suddenly—helpfully, as that pulled it free from the last pantleg that Akira was working off of him. With some satisfaction, he dropped the offending article of clothing onto the floor and looked back to Drew with an expression that threw him violently off. Akira’s eyes were dark. Warm—intensely—no, they were _burning_. Drew’s lip hung open, staring helplessly at Akira as he slowly crawled up between his thighs once more. He didn’t look like a kitten now. He looked like a tiger.

Drew’s mouth was dropped uselessly open, occasionally trembling, as if to say something, but there was nothing he could possibly say to this. What could he say to the obvious?

Akira wanted to fuck him.

A bit of a maddening thought itself, because earlier today Drew wasn’t sure that Akira even knew what intercourse _was_ , let alone that he could have it, let alone that Akira would ever want to do that with someone like him. Had he wanted this? Was this something he’d thought of? Or was this just a product of the moment? Questions swirled maddeningly through his head.

Drew made an agonized noise as he flung both hands over his head, hiding his face. “Akiraaaa...” he moaned in despair, “you don’t know what you’re doing...”

Akira dropped his face low down by Drew’s dick, looking up at it. It was bigger than it had looked clothed, impressively thick, and already dribbling slightly with clear precum. Akira felt his tongue slowly slip across his lips.

“I like this, though...” Drew shuddered, feeling Akira’s breath against his tip as he spoke. Then, gently, a hot, wet tongue slowly inched against the underside of his prick, causing Drew’s back muscles to tighten as he arched in surprise. “ _Mmmhh~_ ”

Drew flung upright, hands fumbling to the back of Akira’s head. He gasped for breath, unsure of whether he wanted to pull Akira free from his cock and lecture him on the dangers of promiscuity, or if he wanted to force Akira to swallow him whole right this second.

Akira didn’t seem to take any heed either way, because as far as he was concerned, he was doing this for his own pleasure: he _liked_ dragging his tongue over Drew’s stiff dick; he _liked_ the way he tasted; he _liked_ the way that Drew was moaning despite himself.

“A- _aahah-kira..._ oh my, oh f... _f..._ ” Drew’s failed attempts to hide his pleasure were almost hilarious, and Akira couldn’t help but smirk as he finally sucked in his cap with warm lips. Oh, that tasted even _better._

“ _AKIRA!_ ” Drew boiled over, taking Akira’s head in both hands and just _shoving_ it down, taking almost twisted pleasure in the sound of Akira gagging on it before he even had it all swallowed. Drew laughed breathlessly, forgetting himself for a moment as he bounced Akira’s head on his cock. And he was doing so well, his tongue flicking against his tip and lavishing the underside. Akira held his breath and tried to keep up with Drew’s sudden furious pace, and took odd pride in the way that he was moaning.

“Yes, _yes, yesssss..._ more of that, oh, _GodyesAkiraaaaah..._ ” Drew moaned uncharacteristically, shamelessly loud, head tipped up to the ceiling, eyes rolling back. Akira moaned, as well, faintly around Drew’s cock. He was enjoying the way his dick felt in his throat.

Suddenly, Drew’s hands jerked away from Akira, who lifted his head up, lips still clasped around the tip, to see what was wrong. Drew ran a hand through his own hair, breathing through his teeth, looking almost tormented. Quickly, Akira released Drew’s dick from his lips with a pop, and crawled up Drew’s body to look up into his eyes. Drew met his with a worried gaze.

“Drew?”

“T-Tozawa, Akira...” Drew stuttered, breathless from his own intensity a moment ago, “w-why?”

Akira smirked as if he didn’t know. “Why what?” He asked, simply. Drew glared at him, but fought to keep himself together.

“W-why...why do, wh-why d...w...are you t-trying to...” he swallowed, not sure of the most tactful way to say it. “A-are you insinuating...th-that you want to...h-have...” Akira tilted his head, waiting patiently on Drew. The next word was barely a squeak. “ _Intercourse?_ ”

The way Akira giggled as he shifted up to his knees both put off and enticed Drew. He ignored his question, instead slowly trailing his hands down his own sides, latching onto the edges of the waistband of his briefs. Drew stared, mouth dropped slightly open, as Akira slowly began to tug, revealing himself gradually: hip bones, the soft stretch of skin just below his stomach, a dropping v-line, a little patch of soft hair, growing just above his—his—

Drew’s hands shot out unconsciously to grip Akira’s wrists, who froze, looking up to his face questioningly. Drew’s expression was quivering, oscillating between deep urgency and deep reservation.

“D-do you know if you want this?” The question sounded stupid, but Drew meant it. He didn’t hope to insinuate that Akira wasn’t intelligent to know what he wanted, but it was hard to be certain when Akira had been previously known to expend so much effort actively trying to _confuse_ him. “I don’t…I-I don’t wanna push you into anything…” Akira’s eyes suddenly darkened with an idea.

“Push me.” It was a command. Drew nearly lurched to obey before stopping himself.

“P-push you?” Drew repeated. In a second, Akira twisted Drew’s grip on him so that it was inverted, him now gripping Drew’s wrists instead, and tugged him in closely. Their foreheads were now nearly touching.

“Push me down in the bed,” Akira said, his voice suddenly rising and quivering, “and then get me naked, too.”

Drew felt his face get warm as Akira breathed against him, felt the grip on his wrists grow suddenly tight and ironlike. It finally hit Drew: Akira was every bit as confused about this new _desire_ as he was. Something was bizarre about that; Drew had always imagined Akira to be the kind of guy who wouldn’t think hard about anything, not even his own feelings—Drew felt a lump of shame rising in his stomach. He’d passed a lot of judgement on him already, but now, looking into Akira’s eyes, he was watching it all uncoil in real time.

Looking into Akira’s eyes...heavy, brown, warm, hot, burning, deep, lidded eyes—not only were Drew’s perceptions uncoiling, but so was Drew, himself, just looking at Akira. Those eyes were splitting his mind into little shards of incomprehensible thought, occasionally intertwined with brief moments of clarity and reason. _God,_ Akira looked so adorable before him, somehow both more and less innocent than he’d ever looked in his entire life, and Drew knew there wouldn’t be an opportunity to see him like this again. But this was dangerous—Drew was setting a dangerous precedent for himself, letting the two of them be involved. He had a moral code, and everything written down in it, Akira’s entire being trampled upon. How could he consider himself true to his own being if he allowed this to go any further?

Then again, Akira had already laid placidly on top of him, still and _quiet,_ while Drew had already forced Akira’s mouth over his prick with an almost cruel gleam in his eyes. Neither of them were really being _true_ to themselves that night…and it was kind of fun not to be.

So Drew kissed him.

It was forceful in its suddenness, and Akira momentarily worried that it had been an attack before registering the soft texture of Drew’s suddenly savage lips. Akira moaned into the kiss, half-melting and wrapping his arms about Drew’s torso. Grunting, almost growling, Drew tore his briefs down his thighs. Akira groaned, perhaps a bit louder than warranted, at the air touching his erection. He hadn’t realized it before, but noticed now that it was already stinging. In a second, Drew was against him again, pulling his body close and grinding his thick dick up against Akira’s thigh. Akira whined at the friction, and Drew pressed his lips back against his in another rough kiss as he continued to pull away Akira’s briefs from his legs. Once they were free, Drew threw them with contempt, and Akira heard them strike the far wall with a muted _thwap._

Akira knew that he had asked—hell, not even “asked”; _demanded_ that Drew push him into the mattress, but, perhaps used to being the more dominant and proactive one in the ring, he still found himself half-stunned when Drew actually did it. He didn’t just push Akira; he _pinned_ him down by his shoulders, straddling him, making sure he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Drew moved his face up to meet Akira’s awed expression, eyes burning in a way that Akira didn’t even think he was capable of. He suddenly realized how much bigger Drew was, and how tiny he looked himself in comparison. All at once, Akira felt that he was a piece of meat, and that Drew was the apex predator—the thought made Akira shiver and loudly, shamelessly moan.

Akira wrapped his legs around Drew, who gave a dark smirk and gratefully grabbed his thigh. He used the leverage to grind harder against Akira’s thigh, now sticky and slick with his precum. Akira tried to whimper again, but was shortly silenced by yet another intense kiss. Akira melted into it, humping weakly up against Drew, feeling nothing like his usual self—and not caring in the slightest.

Drew pulled back suddenly, staring into Akira’s eyes. The smirk on his face was wicked. “Y-you thought...you thought you were too good for my rules, before...” he murmured, voice trembling. “B-but now look at yourself...keeping quiet, letting me do what _I_ want...”

Drew paused and reached down to Akira’s cock, gripping it tightly in his fingers and stroking the tip with his thumb, smearing the dripping precum. Akira gave a strangled cry, and Drew smirked again.

“...and doing what _I_ want you to.”

Akira tried to growl in retort, but it was Drew who growled instead, forcing Akira’s face up to his own and—Christ, it wasn’t even a kiss anymore; just two tongues playing with each others’ mouths. It wasn’t long before they both needed to breathe again, and Drew pulled himself up, raggedly panting as he gripped the headboard, leaving Akira trembling and gasping below him. Once their breath was regained, their eyes turned back to each other, gazing silently. Drew bit his lower lip as he thought.

“Tozawa…” he finally said with a knowing grin, slipping into his campaign voice, “might I proceed...?” Akira licked his lips and nodded feverishly. Drew smiled almost kindly, reaching down to pat Akira’s stubbly cheek. “Good. Lube?”

This time Drew was met with a perplexed look. Drew pushed his lower lip out in mock indignant dismay. “Akira Tozawa!” He chided. “He comes into my room intending to seduce me, and he doesn’t even bring lubricant?”

Akira shook his head. “Nope.” Drew’s brows quirked up questioningly.

“Condom?” He asked. Akira shook his head, grinning in a way that was both sheepish and impish at once. Drew pretended to roll his eyes, but broke down chuckling to himself halfway through. Instead, he slid off the bed, fetching his gym back in the corner—Akira attempted to rise up from the mattress, but was quickly pushed back down by a playfully pointed “stay”. Drew unzipped the lid of the bag and drew out one bottle of lubricant solution and one box of condoms. He saw Akira’s questioning look, bordering on offended, as he set them on the nightstand. Smiling, Drew reached over and gingerly patted his head.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t planning on anyone, Tozawa,” Drew reassured, smirking, “I’m just always sure to be prepared...”

He paused to run a hand over Akira’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

“For anything.”

Akira’s eyes fluttered shut as he molded to Drew’s touch. Drew smiled in satisfaction (good—hopefully Akira wouldn’t realize that he only carried these condoms around in case Tony or Noam were short). Slowly, he pulled the condom wrapper open, none-too-subtly enjoying the fascinated way in which Akira watched as he pushed his tip into the latex.

“Mr. Tozawa, what do you know about safe sexual conduct?” Drew asked, staring down at Akira lying prone on the mattress below him. Akira snickered behind his hand before shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t know much, Mr. Gulak,” Akira teased back with a grin. Drew broke his smirk to genuinely smile—God, he was so adorable. Slowly, he began to unfurl the condom around his shaft, feeling smug as Akira kept his eyes glued to it.

“Maybe I should teach you, then...” Drew said, and Akira shivered. His voice was purring. Thinking of him the way he usually was—collected, sincere, eloquent—and then comparing that to the man before him, looking down on him with a dark smirk…it was a hell of a contrast, to say the least.

Drew took the lube bottle next, opening the cap with a muted click. Just as he was about to squirt an amount into his palm, Akira suddenly reached out to take it. A bit unexpectedly, Drew jerked his hand back, just out of Akira’s reach. He smiled.

“Is there something you want, Tozawa?” Drew asked, amused. Akira felt his face get hot.

“I-I want to do it,” he said faintly. Drew clicked his tongue.

“ _Tsk_...oh, I thought you’d surely know better than that, Tozawa...” he chided, “why don’t you ask me politely, first?” Akira took a quick, shallow breath.

“Can I please do it?” He asked gently. Drew tipped his head as if he didn’t understand.

“Please do what?”

Akira bit his lip and looked down at his lap, catching sight of his own erection, painfully pink and hot. “Can I please rub it on you?” Drew’s head tipped further, mockingly, almost upside down on his neck.

“Rub what and where? Answer me clearly, Tozawa—”

 _“Can I_ _please lube up your dick?”_ Akira asked, in such a quick and sudden burst of breath that Drew’s eyes widened, the facade momentarily cracking. On his part, Akira felt a rush of blood stinging in his whole body. For once, he felt a bit embarrassed...

“G-good boy...” Drew handed the lube bottle to a very pink-faced Akira. He settled between Drew’s legs, squirting out a palmful of lube into his hands, staring down at Drew’s cock. He’d known that Drew, in terms of sheer height, was the biggest cruiserweight on the brand, but—Christ, he never would have predicted _this._ Thick, too, even moreso now that Drew was so restless—and when it stood up erect like this, pink, nearly red, dripping precum and nearly throbbing, it was even kind of beautiful to look at. Akira suddenly thought of how in a minute, he would be trying to fit that whole thing inside of him...he squirted a bit of extra lube into his palm.

Akira’s hands trembled slightly as he reached out to Drew, who lifted his hips encouragingly. Timidly, he took a loose grip onto Drew’s dick. The effect was electric—Drew gasped loudly, the cool touch of gel contrasting beautifully with the heat rising off his swollen skin. Akira blushed as he felt it twitch in his palm. Drew pleadingly raised his hips up higher, running his cock into Akira’s grasp. Akira fumbled as he ran his loose fist around Drew’s throbbing dick, almost desperately quick—he worried momentarily that he was doing it wrong, that he wasn’t getting the job done, but then he heard the way Drew was moaning.

“ _Ohhh...ah, G-God..._ yes, yesss...that’s good- _nnnh~_ ”

Akira took a breath in and closed his eyes as he worked all over Drew’s cock, delicately stroking over every inch (making mental note of when Drew’s breath hitched, knowing he’d found an especially sensitive spot) until his dick was finally coated. Akira sat back and watched Drew smile as he reached his hand out, gripping Akira’s slick, lube-sticky hand in his own. He entwined their fingers together, and Akira felt his heart skip.

“Good work...” Drew murmured, as faint as if he’d already had his orgasm. In a second, his smile darkened into a smirk of lust. “Now...” his grip on Akira’s fingers constricted suddenly. “What shall I do to you?”

“Push me back and get your dick in me,” Akira answered almost immediately, blushing red as Drew raised an eyebrow at him before chuckling faintly. Dammit. He’d been so quick, he likely just gave away how often he’d fantasized this exact thing.

To Drew’s credit, he asked no questions, just grabbed Akira’s shoulders and thrust him hard into the mattress. Akira gasped, feeling his dick twitch at the way Drew glowered down at him from above. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the lube bottle. Akira squinted.

“See, Akira...if I’m going to do this right, I’m going to have to...” Drew licked his lips, searching for the right term, “ _open you up,_ a bit.” He squirted a little strip of gel across his fingers and rubbed it in, and smiled approvingly at the way Akira reached down and pulled apart his thighs.

“Good, good...” Drew smiled as his fingertip brushed slowly against Akira’s tight hole, producing a whimper on the spot. “Oh, Akira, don’t whine just yet...” the twisted smile was audible in Drew’s voice as he suddenly sank his fingertip into Akira’s entrance, making him buck up his hips and choke. “I’m just getting started with you.”

A sharp, throaty sound escaped Akira—Drew wasn’t fucking around anymore. He was going as deep as the knuckle, twisting around inside him—and then out, and in again, in and out, so quick and insistent—and then suddenly there was a _second_ finger inside of him, and both were curling up against a soft, sensitive nerve bundle, sending rippling waves through Akira, feeling himself tighten even as Drew opened him up. He didn’t think twice about moaning, hardly even thought once; just tipped his head back and whined at the ceiling. So good. _So good._ _So fucking good._

So good that Akira felt a little disappointment as Drew slowly pulled his fingers out of his asshole. He didn’t have long to mourn, though, as in a minute Drew pulled his hips closer, the tip of his dick bouncing against his hot, needy entrance. He couldn’t stop the little whimper that fell from his lips—he could already tell that it was going to be a hard stretch. _“Nnnh...”_

Drew smiled faintly, slowly, deliberately brushing his tip over Akira’s entrance. Akira attempted to press his hips back, to coerce Drew’s cock inside of him, but Drew’s grip was stronger than he’d thought it would be.

“Y-y…you…d-dick...” Akira grunted in frustration, fists balled into the sheets. Drew smirked, now brushing over Akira’s hole with a pointedly slow drag.

“Hmmm...I’m not sure if I’m convinced you want it, yet.” Drew pressed the head of his cock lightly against Akira’s asshole—not enough to finally sink inside, but enough to make Akira crazy.

“F-fuck you!”

“Hey, now, no need for that language,” Drew scolded, punishing Akira with a quick, sharp smack across his ass, listening proudly to the whine it produced. “Besides, I think you have it backwards.” Akira moaned, still wriggling, trying to push his hips up

“Fuck me...pleeease...” Akira begged. Drew smiled and gently stroked his hair, pressing his cock a little harder against his hole.

“Good, good,” Drew cooed, relaxing his grip on Akira’s hips slightly. “A little more like that, now.” Akira whimpered, lowering his upper body to the mattress in embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Drew Gulak, of all people, to make him fucking _beg_.

“P-please fuck me…” It came out softly. Drew rewarded him with a little bit more pressure, his tip almost inside…or maybe, considering how completely insane it drove Akira, it wasn’t a “reward” at all.

“You’re doing good, Akira…” Drew said gently, “now…what else can you do for me…” He chuckled as he heard Akira try to growl at him; simply gripped his hair to hush him. He thought about it for a minute. “Hmmmmmmm...ah! I got it...Tozawa, you won’t get anything more out of me until you admit...my PowerPoints are—“

That was more than enough. With a cry, Akira broke from Drew’s grip and forced his hips back, enveloping the tip of his dick inside of his hole. Drew stuttered, hissed, suddenly froze, brain shutting down as he felt it...tight and hot and...good. _Very fucking good._ Akira attempted a laugh, but it came out strangled and broken. Christ, this was just the tip, and already Akira felt like he was being stretched out to what he was sure _had_ to be his limit. Already he wanted more, so much more, but half of him felt like he probably would get killed trying to take the rest of Drew’s length.

“ _Ngnhh...ahah_...w-what’s the matter, D-Drew?” Akira teased, trying his hardest not to babble. “F-forgot what you were talking about-t?”

“Y-you... _oh..._ ” Drew’s voice was harsh and deep as he snarled, prying his tip out of Akira’s asshole. Suddenly, Akira felt his hips get caught up in a harsh, violent grip, pulling them in closer to Drew’s throbbing cock. With one swift, almost brutal snap of his hips, Drew slammed his dick deep down to the hilt inside of Akira’s heat.

“ _AHHHH...~”_ Akira’s throat made a noise without his permission. He’d pissed Drew off, and now the consequence was taking his throbbing dick, all at once—it burned, it fucking stung even after all that lube on both ends. Akira contracted tight like a second skin on Drew’s erection, whimpering and almost crying as it slithered back out, only to then be punishingly drilled back into again. Akira swore that Drew’s cock was not only stretching him, but literally ripping him into shreds, about to split him into two sobbing halves.

And Akira couldn’t get enough of that.

“Youuu _uuu~_ ” Drew gasped for air, tipping back his head, “y-you, Akira...oh fuck...th-this is...t-tight...” He was almost embarrassed by his limited vocabulary, but he couldn’t help it. Akira was affecting his brain, demolishing it with every beautiful contraction around his cock every time he screwed it in...and his lips—those beautiful, begging _lips_...

“Oohh... _h-harder...fuck me HARDER_...” Akira pleaded, desperately trying to drive his hips down to meet Drew’s cock, to lodge him in even deeper inside of his body. Drew groaned, reaching down to Akira’s leg and hooking it over his shoulder—they gasped in tandem as he sank in deeper. Akira shivered, hips rising up from the mattress.

“OohhhhhmyGod, _God...Drewww..._ ” Akira whined loudly, “deeper, pleeease~...”

Drew gave a hoarse, breathless laugh as he arched his back, hips snapping at a hard angle into Akira’s awaiting asshole. “F-fuck, you’re eager, aren’t yooooo _uuuuu..._ ” A particularly severe contraction caused Drew’s cock to jump inside of Akira. Drew groaned low, desperately clutching at Akira’s shoulder for leverage—because goddammit, he was feeling lightheaded already. Akira was so tight, so hot, so fucking deep, so... _everything_ , it made Drew’s head spin. This may have been heaven, he wasn’t sure; there wasn’t time to think about it while Akira was lying beneath him, grabbing at his free thigh and pulling it away in an attempt to open himself up for all of Drew’s thick, throbbing dick.

Actually, Drew realized as he gripped the headboard, staring down at Akira’s face... it wasn’t just Akira’s body that was making him like this. Something in Akira’s bright red, gasping face, his soft, flushed skin, his dark eyes that would suddenly brighten, flooded with stars every time Drew’s cock slammed into the sweetest, softest part of his core—all of these things made Drew smirk softly, before moaning, pushing himself harder, faster into Akira, milking him for all those beautiful clipped noises and gasps he made when Drew fucked him just right.

Below him, Akira was writhing, twisting, moaning and crying rhapsodic against the pillows beneath his head as Drew fucked him, almost literally, out of his mind. His eyes were open, but glazed over with pleasure, only able to see for but a moment before Drew’s thick, full prick drilled powerfully into his core again, blinding him with stars all over again. But those seconds that Akira could see were wonderful seconds, because above him, there was Drew, and he was dominant, and he was so _fucking_ handsome when he was dominant—eyes drawn shut, brows knitted in a serious expression of concentration, but lips, parted and taking soft, quick, awestricken breaths betraying all the pleasure he felt; his muscles tensed, in his chest and even his belly (a soft belly, but wonderfully so), contracted and rising and falling the deeper and more ragged Drew’s breaths became—and those fucking _arms,_ those strong, soft, warm arms that had cradled Akira just twenty minutes ago were now strained, trembling as Drew held the headboard in a death grip.

Another deep, harsh thrust, and Akira’s vision whited again, but the afterimage of Drew stayed fresh in his mind. When they cleared again, Drew was still there, still gasping, still grasping his thigh, still gorgeous—Akira wasn’t sure what was making his dick drip with precum right now: Drew’s cock inside of him, or Drew’s body above him.

 _“D-Drewww...”_ Akira somehow managed between gasps, “y-you look—FUCK—oh, s-so good...”

Drew opened one eye slowly, peering down on Akira’s body. He held down a moan just seeing him, sprawled out tiny and twitching and vulnerable—just the sight of Akira made his dick throb in his heat, forcing Akira to moan low and tighten on Drew’s already aching cock. Fuck, how was he going to last...

“A-Akira...” he murmured, “fuck...s-so cute...sexy...” Drew couldn’t afford much more intelligent thought than that; not when he brushed his cock over the sweetest, most sensitive bundle of nerves in Akira’s whole fucking body, spreading through him, sparking up every nerve ending he had. Akira arched his back and moaned loud, nearly screaming.

“Aaahhh...a-ah...!!” Akira’s mouth was open, noises falling helplessly out. Drew chuckled breathlessly, holding that angle and fucking Akira harder, more furiously. If this was a sensitive spot he had a mind to exploit it—and judging by how Akira’s starry eyes rolled up almost back into his skull, he loved to be the victim.

“Moan...Akira, please...” Drew growled, voice choked by the intense, blistering heat surrounding his member, “moan, _moan_ for me, _please...~_ ”

“A-ah...” A stuttering breath. God, there was so much Akira wanted to say. _Harder_ , _deeper, faster, yes, oh my fucking God, yes_. _.._ but thinking straight was impossible when he was being drilled this viciously, his whole body stinging beautifully with every thrust. All the noise Akira could make, in absence of words, was just that—noise, loud, meaningless gusts and sharp cries from his chest, strangled and deep and rough, in time with every thrust into his body. “Ahh...aaa _ahh~..._ ”

Drew tipped his head back, smirking, licking his lips in approval. “Yeah, yes...fuck, that’s good...”

“A-aahh, ahh…a-aa _aaaaahh!!”_ Akira’s voice went sharply up as Drew upped his speed, clearly encouraging him to give him more, to keep screaming for him—he didn’t give a damn that anyone was going to hear them anymore; that, most definitely, by now every single adjacent room had heard them. As long as Akira was moaning, it was all Drew could hear—

 _“Aaah…aa-aahh!! AAH!”_ Akira cried again. His body was trembling—badly—so much so that he felt like he was about to fucking break to pieces around Drew’s cock, still driving hard into him like a motor piston, a machine. Drew, on his part, sounded broken already—a broken record, skipping with every shallow thrust of his throbbing dick into Akira’s quivering hole: “More…more, please… _fuck_ , more…”

“A-ahh…” Akira couldn’t help but smirk a bit. When they were in the ring, “AH!” would make Drew’s face contort in a disapproving grimace, not slack in ecstasy— _oh fuck_ that was rough—not that Akira minded in the fucking least; hell, he was more than happy to oblige—

“AHH!! A-ahh…”

The trouble was how the fuck he was going to _last_ much longer, because he could feel his own dick trembling between his legs, bouncing hard and leaking with every shallow thrust Drew drilled into his ass. It stung with a neediness for release, and he needed to say something.

“D-D-Drewwww…” Akira finally found it in him to whimper it out. Drew, panting raggedly, finally paused, resting his thick cock inside of Akira for the moment (shit—it felt somehow even more massive when it wasn’t in motion). “D-Drew…p-please, I-I need…I-I have…” Akira’s sentence fell off into a desperate, muted whine as his head fell into the pillow, but Drew quickly saw what he was stuttering about: his cock was deep red, straining hard and drenched in dribbling precum. It hurt Drew to look at—though, in the back of his mind, he was more than a little smug that the one who drove Akira to this extreme had been him and him alone. Still…

Drew caught Akira’s cock in his warm hand, stroking faintly along the shaft. It twitched instantly, and Akira shuddered. Drew felt his own dick twitching deep inside of Akira’s heat, and he suddenly realized that he wasn’t far off from the end, either.

“A-Akira…g-gonna cum?” He asked, barely able to clip his tone up into a question. Akira nodded fiercely, words finally abandoning him completely. Drew gave a nod of comprehension back, and braced himself low against Akira’s body. It was remarkably simple communication for _“alright, I understand; I want to cum with you”._

Maybe they could see it in each other’s eyes, as Drew bowed low overhead of Akira, staring down deeply through him while he worked his body over—hand working his cock, cock working his ass, and there was little for Akira to do but shiver and moan below him, hands weakly gripping Drew’s shoulders for support.

“A-aahh…” It started to boil up, implacably, deep in the pit of his belly. Again, his prick shivered.

“Aa _aaahhhh_ …” Again. Drew cooed, whispering soft encouragements of _yes, so good, baby, please, I want you to, all over my chest, now, please_ while his own dick trembled hard.

“AAAHH!!!” Akira’s back finally arched up stiffly as his cock surrendered, spraying hot all over Drew’s chest. Drew followed him headlong in a second, all the way down, his eyes nearly rolling away into his skull as his dick gave one last hard pulse before spilling hard into his condom. They both were _screaming_ —each other’s names, to God, pure gibberish—neither of them were sure of it, or sure of anything, because neither of them could think or speak or even breathe. All they did was feel—and felt fucking amazing.

After a few mere seconds that felt like eternity, Drew collapsed dizzily on top of Akira beneath him. Akira didn’t protest; it wasn’t like he had any air left to be knocked out of him—both of them were just panting and reeling, laying still in the bed.

The yelling started up a second later.

“Jesus CHRIST, shut UP down there!” “Fuckin’ congrats, gentlemen!” _“Keepin' th' whole damn buildin' waukin' wi' 'at!”_

It was like the entire hotel was jeering at them at once. Akira laughed brightly, but Drew felt a bit more embarrassed, trying to bury his head in Akira’s chest as he pulled his cock out, reaching for the condom.

“I think they know,” Akira said, beaming, “do you?” Drew glowered up at him as he knotted up the condom.

“I-I’ll deny everything…” he finally said, smirking tiredly as he dropped the condom in the trash by the nightstand. Akira smiled innocently.

“Deny what?” He asked, shrugging his shoulders. Drew cracked a grin, reaching to ruffle Akira’s soft hair approvingly.

“Good boy…” he murmured, marveling at the loving face Akira made when he touched him. But then he sighed, falling back into the bed. “I have got to sleep…”

Akira didn’t flop on him as much as he did pounce right onto his chest. Drew wheezed for breath and looked down as Akira looked right back up, chin pressing square into his chest. Again, Drew sighed—damn, he was hard to be mad at when he looked this _cute_.

“H-how do you still have so much energy after all that?”

“After all what?”

Drew stared down at Akira, who only gave him a smug look in return. Slowly, Drew chuckled, and pulled Akira up for a soft kiss on his lips.

“Mmm…you know, Tozawa,” Drew murmured, “I’m denying everything…but if I _had_ to pick somebody…”

Akira cut Drew off with a kiss to his lips, slightly more forceful, slightly longer than Drew had kissed him. “I know,” he said with a smirk. “Goodnight.”

Drew looked a bit stunned, but smiled faintly anyway as he laid down. Akira followed him down, laying flat in his chest.

After a moment’s thought, Akira took Drew’s arms and wrapped them about his back. He sighed with satisfaction.

“Still warm…” Akira murmured tiredly. Drew smirked as he stroked between his shoulders.

“Goodnight, Akira—“

“Wait, Drew.”

“Yes?” Drew looked down to Akira, who smiled wide.

“Ahh~...”

Drew blushed furiously red as he reached to the lamp switch. “No chanting, Tozawa.”

**Author's Note:**

> As stated, I wrote this as a distraction from recent controversy in wrestling that somewhat affects me. Regarding that--  
> I don't presume anything about the case with Enzo at this time; as such I'm not going to do anything with the fic I've already written involving him until there's a resolution. For the time being, however, I don't think I'll be writing any more fic involving him for that period either. Anything after that depends on what the outcome is and how I feel in the future.  
> Thanks for reading!


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